Blood in the Mouth

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As if thrown into the sea,

I drown in myself. Adrift,

Worn from lack of sleep again,

I berate and taunt my past.

 

Each faux pas, each arrogant

Act, repeated and rehashed

Until each cringe inducing

Detail is nailed to my skin.

 

Time does not layer armor

Tightly enough to protect

Against the internal thrusts,

 

But rather sharpens the blade

To more precisely dissect

Each vein flowing from my heart.

 

(December 14, 2017)

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